


The Ward of Casterly Rock

by Kalendeer



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:43:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalendeer/pseuds/Kalendeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I was ten and naive, a girl whose Lord Father had died; he was strong, impressive and my suzerain. Tywin Lannister became my White Knight. Then I grew up, and nothing changed."</p><p>The story of the young Lady of Fairkeep, wife of Gerion Lannister, among the Lannisters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How I met Tywin Lannister

Author’s notes: Welcome on the Ward of Casterly Rock airplane! There may be some turbulence since the author is not a native English speaker. She hopes her fanfiction is still readable, and won’t be angry, annoyed or overly sad if you, dear reader, decide to correct some mistakes, as long as you do it kindly.

During the flight, you may encounter characters such as Tywin Lannister, his brothers (all of them, because Tygett and Gerion also need a lot of love), bits of Cersei and Jaime and probably, some Tyrion too. If you like Lannisters, please do read! If you don’t like Lannisters, please do read as well, because that’s no good reason. 

If you still want to board this flight, we will be departing now…

_ _ _ 

 

I was ten when I moved to Casterly Rock.

I remember these days very clearly. My father had died two weeks before, apparently from an heart attack, and Lord Tywin had come in person to the funerals. It was highly unusual. Our lands of Fairkeep were hardly rich, our castle rather small, and he and my father had not been friends. I was, however, immensely impressed when Tywin sat with me in my father's chamber and told me how sorry he was for me and my sisters. We were now orphans, for our mother had died a few years earlier, birthing the fourth girl of the family. But I, the lady of Fairkeep, had no nothing to fear: Tywin would arrange for me and my sisters to come with him to Casterly Rock, where he would provide for us, protect us while his men kept Fairkeep safe for me, so that no one would try to steal my lands or take advantage of my position.

Of course, at this time, I saw Tywin's arrival as providential. I had lost my doting father and found myself alone with his knights and three, crying and wholly useless sisters. It was obvious I couldn't manage Fairkeep, and even more obvious, Tywin told me gently, that as soon as I would be old enough, many men of dubious morality and reputation would try to approach me and force me into some kind of horrid wedding. Impressive as he was, and my suzerain, I failed to see his own interest in the matter and perceived only benevolence on his part.

So we buried my father, packed our belongings and followed Lord Tywin Lannister back to Casterly Rock, while he left one of his men to rule in my stead.

I had, of course, never seen anything as great as this city in my whole life, and felt all the more prouder since Tywin had allowed, no, encouraged me to ride near him while he entered his city. Everything was so clean, the stone of the houses and walls so white and, first and foremost: it was the first time I saw paved streets. Lannister's Hold was at least ten times grander than Fairkeep, a very large castle with gardens sprawling on terraces, as if the place was hugging the rocky hill with stony arms and flowery, green sleeves. A septa would latter tell me that the gardens had been built on the orders of Lady Joanna, already dead for eight years when I arrived; Tywin cared little for flowers and trees. The main yard was so big Fairkeep would fit inside, and for the first time of my life I had my own room instead of sharing with my sisters.

I was Tywin's ward, but I hardly ever saw him at the beginning. I was schooled with a Septa and the other highborn girls, all of whom were awed by Cersei, Tywin's beloved and beautiful daughter. Aged fifteen, she was in an awfull mood most of the time ; I was told it was because her brother Jaime had joined the Kingsguard, and her father refused to acknowledge her as the heir of Casterly Rock since he had a son, Tyrion, which he hated with burning passion. To me, however, everything was far simpler. Cersei was beautiful, sharp minded and had been to King's Landing; she was older than me, the daughter of my Lord, very charming when she wanted to. She was perfection, even when angered, for was that not the proof she was willful? I dreamed of trading my chestnut fluffy hair for hers, my flat chest for her marvelous curves, my shyness for her strength. To mimic her, I hated her brother.

Then Cersei left, when I was thirteen, and things changed.

A few weeks after her wedding, I was called to Tywin's office. I had been there a few times already, usually because he wanted to report to me what was done in Fairkeep. I knew it was a mean to teach me, but since it involved telling me everything about hanging or cutting the hands of thieves, it was hardly the best time of the week. This time, however, Tywin sat me by the huge oak table in the middle of the room, not in front of his large desk. Parchment, quills and a huge book with no title lay in front of me.

I felt him behind me, lowering above my shoulder as he opened the book. My breath caught in my throat.

“This,” he said with his deep, clear voice. “Is the double-entry bookkeeping system.”

Columns of numbers lined up in front of me. Tywin flipped the pages, all covered with his or Kevan's neat writing.

“Beginning now, you will study with my Maester. He will teach you more advanced mathematics and the History of the great Houses in a far more detailed way. Once a week I will check your progresses myself and, unless you are lagging behind, we will study a subject which I deem relevant for your education. By the end of this year, I want you to be able to use perfectly this bookkeeping system and deal with other aspects of administration.”

I nodded and felt a shudder in my spine. I was almost dizzy with pride, that Tywin would spend so much time and efforts on me. I craned my neck, searching for his eyes, and breathed a “Thank you, my Lord”, hoping with all my heart it conveyed how grateful I was. “For everything you're doing for me.”

He didn't smile, but I didn't expect him to. Tywin Lannister never smiled, at least with his mouth; somehow, it seemed to reach his eyes, at least in the split second when our gazes locked. Then they went cold again. “Lady Esteill, what liege would I be if I didn't take good care of my wards?”

In my eyes, his sudden humility made him all nobler. He was my white knight, he had said so -bound to protect me, teach me, perhaps make me as great as his golden Cersei. Of course, I was far to naïve to understand that I had a teenage crush on Lord Tywin Lannister, the man who was, perhaps, the less likely to return my feelings and was old enough to be my father. In response, I dedicated myself to my studies, even though I had no gift at all for math and had to spend hours struggling with numbers. I was better at history, something Tywin quickly understood, and from then on we engaged in hot debates, leaving me exhausted more often than not.

One evening, we sat in his study in silence after he sent his cupbearer away, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to begin with whatever lesson he had devised. I was startled when he finally opened his mouth.

“I never told you about Joanna, did I?”

I hesitated. It was well known Tywin still grieved about her. I was swimming in dangerous waters.

“No, my Lord.  
-But surely, you heard rumors about her, didn’t you ?  
-Yes, my Lord. The Septa, and some other older women...” I knew what he expected from me. Tywin loathed cowardice and a half answer wouldn't do. “They told me she was beautiful. That you loved her. That... that while you ruled the Kingdom, she ruled you.  
-And you expect me to be angry about these rumors.”  
It wasn't a question. He probably knew anyway that some men snickered about it -the proud, powerful Lannister, cowering in front of his lioness, submissive to her whims. Other, kinder or more respectful ones said it only with sadness.  
“These people are fools. I was -am- never ashamed of the rank Joanna held while she was alive. She was not only my wife. She counseled me more wisely than any man could, including Kevan. Some thought I was weak, that a woman should not be allowed to speak. You should never let them persuade you of this. A strong man will never fear his wife; never feel threatened by her mind. Only the weak and the ill-educated cannot understand this.”  
His piercing gaze fell on me, appraising me.  
“Do you understand why I am telling you this?  
-I am not... have you found a match for me? My Lord? To marry me?”

But I don't want to marry anyone. I wish I could marry you.

But he shook his head. “Not yet. One day, yes, I will provide a fine husband for you, but not so soon. You have not flowered yet, am I wrong?”

My cheeks turned red, but I nodded. 

“I thought so. You are too young anyway. When I will give you away, I want to be sure Fairkeep will be well managed. That you will know how to tend to everything while your husband his away, or sick, or too lazy. I want your children to be well bred, so that your daughters may be faithful friends to Cersei's, and your sons good servants of hers and the Rock.  
-It is your best interest, then. Everything you're teaching me...  
-No one does anything out of goodwill, Esteill. No one. I am teaching you because I want your soldiers, the strength of your house backing me.”  
I felt it was not only that, but the rest he wouldn't say. It was meaningful, his timing: he had started to teach me personally when Cersei married and left him. But he wouldn't say he missed her, or Joanna. I was strangely touched that he would speak of her, to me and me alone. How many had heard such confidences from his mouth? It was so unlike him to raise personal matters!

“Speaking of marriage,” he said, rather bluntly. “You will need to learn how to please your husband. How to... make him love you. To work with him. It is essential if you ever seek to hold some power.”

If I thought I was red before, I was mistaken : my hears warmed uncomfortably, as did my throat. Tywin looked resolutely away from me, at the fire.

“Passion. Passion is a mistake, know this. Passion fades and makes you dumb. Look at Rhaegar Targaryen. Look at Lyanna Stark, or even King Robert. You are young and may feel like giving in to it. Don't. Ever. Built it patiently. Do not go too fast, or you will scare your man. You, women, know a lot about feelings, and understand them well. Men do not. We are slower to grasp those things, so you must give him time. Reassure him. Learn to like his flaws, teach him that he needs you. It is a subtle work, one requiring time and stamina. What you seek at the end of it is respect. Not passion. Respect.”

With a sign of his hand, he instructed me to pour him a glass of wine.Red as blood, it shone by the light of the fire; he turned the glass, as if fascinated by the liquid inside, lost in memories of red. Memories, perhaps, of death and child birth.

“I don't think I ever told Cersei or Jaime about how I met Joanna.”

He didn't include Tyrion ; he never did.

“It was at a feast. He knew her before that, of course. She was my cousin, after all, but young boys don't speak to younger girls. I had to dance with her and the bothered me with how her father had his Maester teach her brother Stafford, and she wasn't allowed anymore because he wanted her to be pretty and futile, and it was so unjust since her brother was dumber than a chicken whereas she was gifted. At the end she made me promise that I would teach her myself, and I agreed because I felt she would never leave me alone unless I did.”

“She was right, actually. She was gifted in math. I was older but she quickly became much, much better than I was. She was the first woman to really impress me, and I had been partly educated at King's Landing with Prince Aerys Targaryen, so my standards were high, mind you. I was better when it came to debates, though she could sometimes defeat me quite soundly. It felt like fencing, talking with her.” In this single word, suddenly, there were enormous feelings ; a spark in Tywin's voice, a glimpse of a marvellous past, long lost and regretted. As if no one, these days, could fence with him like he did with her.

I could finally see why he was so frustrated with people. With the idiots who believed they could talk with him, but did not follow half of what he truly said. With the cowards who told him what they believed he wanted to hear. With his children who looked like her but could not compare. With those who did not want to climb to his level, with those who could but were his enemies.

Then, he surprised me : “Of all my children, only Tyrion as her mind.” He spat the name, but still, it rang as truth. “Jaime, he has her look, yes. But sometimes I see my father in him, rather than Joanna or I. Cersei... Cersei, I believe, she is like me, but this is not...” He closed his eyes and sipped the wine. “I would have made the worst lady, don't you think? Cersei, she wishes she could yield a sword, wear the crown herself. She dislikes how she has to please men, for them to give her power. She loathes how she has to play this game of being a Lady. Do you?  
-Dislike being a Lady?  
-Obviously.” He was annoyed; I was too slow, not aggressive enough, perhaps.  
“No. I don't want to yield a sword, but Fairkeep is mine by birth. I don't want to see my husband rule what is mine. Not without me.  
-Exactly. Which is my...  
-You are teaching me the game.  
-Yes.  
-So that I can be like Joanna was.”

He flinched.

“No.” He glared at me then. A chilling, icy glare. “There won't be a Joanna again, not now, not ever.”


	2. The Lysa Conspiracy

**Chapter 1 : The Lysa Conspiracy**

After a short winter, Lord Tywin Lannister visited his daughter in King's Landing. 

I accompanied him, a member of his host. I wasn't told why he was travelling there. Officially, he visited the royal family to meet baby Joffrey, his first grandchild, but everyone suspected the trip wasn't just a social call. I knew he would have no time to spare for me; I had, however, received instructions, carried by one of his squires, ordering me to spend time with Cersei and her ladies and to listen. I guessed he wanted to know who she was seeing and if she was happy.

I cannot say my performance was stunning.

Tywin always insisted that, as the Lady of Fairkeep, I should dress according to what my lands could provide. He had shown me once how he calculated what was due for my personal living : what wasn't in use for the demesne itself, or for the repair and modernization of the castle (he had ordered this, as part of all the liberties he obviously took in my name) ; what he did not keep for my sisters’ dowries ; what he did not put aside in case of disasters such as storms, flood or drought ; what did not go to the construction of the new port, to transform one of my villages into a small, bustling fishing and merchant city. What was left was shared between my sisters and I, and even if Tywin was kind of generous in gifts (he had offered a horse to each of us for our birthdays), I felt for the first time the pang of poverty when I compared my clothes and jewel to those of the ladies of the Court. I may have been put my wits and education above beauty, I could not help but feel profoundly hurt every time I heard one of them snicker.

I was sixteen, usually the age at which young ladies get engaged. Cersei was twenty-one and had been married for three years. When I first joined her and her ladies, in a solar with a sea-view, she had her one year and a half son Joffrey on her knees. She looked tremendously happy and clearly in love with the child.

She introduced me to her friends with surprising kindness since she hardly ever cared for me at the Rock. I had only been the youngest pup in the kennel and I had expected her to have forgotten all about me.

“Ladies, let me introduce Lady Esteill of Fairkeep. She has been my father's ward for some years now, and pupil too, if I'm not mistaken?”

I had no idea how she knew. I couldn't image Tywin writing to her about my classes. It downed on me that she may have been asking by letters to other relatives or friends how her father fared, who he saw and who he talked to. The notion was disturbing. I shook it off: of course Tywin wrote to her, and of course he could have mentioned he was tutoring me. If not him, then one of her uncles could have done it, either Kevan, Tygett or young Gerion who, after all, was not much older than Cersei.

“No, you are right, my Lady.” I tried my best curtsey, and was pleased when it proved satisfactory. “I am very grateful of you father, for all the good graces he bestowed upon me.  
-Has he already set his mind on your future husband ?”

I answered that I did not know, that Lord Tywin mostly kept to his own counsel. The question unsettled me, since I often wondered about this matter and never dared to ask Tywin.

“Good. Pray that he never does. Husbands are the bane of a woman's life. Look at my dear Lysa Arryn. The poor thing...” She patted fondly Joffrey's head. “Thankfully, after the horror of childbirth, we still have our babies. Well, most of us do.”

She asked me for gossips from Casterly Rock. I indulged her, and by the end of the hour, she knew who married whom, who gave birth and who was in disgrace. She listened with mixed feeling of carefully hidden nostalgia and obvious boredom; if not for fugitive glances or small twitches of her mouth, I would have guessed she did not care at all. I was relieved when she turned to another matter, that is, the birth of Oberyn Martell's fourth official bastard daughter. True, the girl was a few months old now, but Cersei had only now received a new lady-in-waiting from Sunspear and was all too happy to criticize the Martell's debauchery.

I was utterly fascinated, for at the Rock, Tywin would never have tolerated anything of the sort. I knew his brother Gerion was rather fond of girls, but he was always discreet about his lavish frequentations, careful not to cross his Lord, and was an exception: Kevan was so in love with his wife it almost hurts, and Tygett, even though Darlessa was drunk half the time and despite his taste for untasteful jokes, was known for his fealty toward her. Of course I knew not all families were as virtuous as the Lannisters, but I had been sheltered from such scandals.

At the end of the afternoon, Joffrey started to wail loudly. Cersei left the child to a nurse and gave free quarters to her ladies. She wished to show me around the garden to hear more about her family, but once there, I discovered the true reason behind this walk.

“Since you are new here, I will ask a small favor of you. Do you know who Lady Lysa Arryn is ?  
-Is she the young woman with the blue dress? The one who was seated not far from the throne, with red hair?  
-Yes. Members of the court don't sit, but for the king or the elderlies, but Lady Arryn was bestowed this special honor. She has trouble conceiving, you see, and Jon Arryn thinks the causes are physical weakness and fatigue. I, however, have another theory. I know Lysa sneaks regularly to the city to buy cosmetics. I bet she's buying less savory potions too. I would like you to help me prove it.”

She bent her fine, lean waist to grab a pink rose. She had grown prettier and the setting sun put her golden hair on fire. Yet for all her beauty her words smelled like foul play. She may be thinking of someone else's safety, or she may not. A breath of air carried the rose's scent to me; rich, lovely and sweet. Its petals were as pale as Cersei's skin. I could imagine her skin, as soft and perfect as this rose.

But then, roses were cruel flowers, with needles and swords sticking out of their body.

“Pardon my asking, Lady Cersei, but how I am supposed to find these proofs?”

She tilted her hair so that it would cascade on her back, a lovely, almost flirty gesture.

“Follow her. She should go tomorrow morning” she explained patiently. “And try to get in the shop and listen. She doesn't know you. Dress simply and she won't even know you're there.”

Yes, foul play indeed.

Still, I did as I was told. I put on some bland clothes of my servant. The young girl concealed my hair under a plain, cream scarf, as it was done by the most respectable, unmarried girls. Then I left the Red Keep and waited. My servant would wait for my return and convince the guards I had every right to be there, despite my plain clothes.

Thankfully, Lysa Arryn was overly nervous but in no way discreet, which allowed me to follow her with some ease. Had I been stalking someone with some skills or imagination, I would have been caught: I was as credible as a peasant as Tyrion would as a squire, and my infiltration technics were completely inexistent.

I followed Lysa when she entered a small shop clustered with herbs and powders. I could not help but drink the view and scent like I would a heavy wine: small baskets displayed all sorts of pepper and spices, some red, other a rich yellow, all with their own, pleasant smell. Green, dried bouquets hang from the low ceiling, creating a natural curtain. Once inside the single room one would find himself in a comfortable penumbra, the light coming through the herbs. I spotted glasses bottles of an average quality, but filled with all sort of weird wonders. I shivered when I spotted what looked like a dead kitten floating in a green liquid.

Lysa and her servant shot me a mistrustful glance. What was I supposed to do? I had expected this eventuality but had prepared nothing in anticipation. My cheeks reddened. I stammered some kind of apology and feigned to be fascinated by a shelf of jars. Lysa soon whispered (rather loudly, actually) that I was of no importance. I felt her servant's glare on my back; obviously, that girl knew better than her mistress, but did not dare (or want to) speak up right now.

I heard someone's footsteps, someone heavier than the skinny Lady of the Vale. Then a female, deep voice rang out and the two women chattered. Lysa asked for products I recognized: a powder made from rocks which was used as whitening foundation; a vinegar from the Arbor, very prized by high ranking ladies for their hair; a red pigment from Essos to paint pale cheeks pink, and other expensive products denied to me, not because I couldn't afford them, but because Tywin found it vulgar on young, fresh and unmarried women. I was beginning to think Lysa had nothing to hide at all and was just a nutter when the conversation dropped to a low murmur I could not understand. Finally, Lysa got what she wanted, paid and left the shop.

And I did not know what she had bought.

I turned to face the shop keeper. She was a fat, red faced woman with greying hair, with dark eyes and thick lips. She asked what I wished for, her tone amiable enough, though she lacked the clean politeness of someone used to talk to higher borne people.

“I...”

I was ashamed and embarrassed. How could I ask her what Lysa was bringing back to the castle? I would be too suspect and she would refuse.

“... I would like the same. As the Lady.”

My cheeks turned a dark pink again. I lowered my eyes and prayed the Seven I would never have to do something so shameful again.

The shop keeper nodded. “Stay here, girl.” She came back a moment later with a small bag. “Here. Ya never took some before, yes ?  
-N-no,” I stammered again. Of course I hadn't, I had no damning idea about... “No, never.  
-If ya're not pregnant yet, then no one will know. Don't take too much, no more than one leaf a time. If ya're pregnant ya will bleed some bit, and bleed more the more ya wait.   
-I'm not pregnant,” I answered, trying not to sound indignant. 

She did not seem to care.

“Then ya won't be. I don't care why ya want it for, as long as ya pay. Remember: one leaf a time only.”

I paid with some of the money Cersei had given me, put the little bag in my servant's leather bag, thanked her and left.

I was elated. My mission was a success!

Or at least, it was, until I got caught by Tywin's chief of the guards.

The man had known me since I was ten. My disguise fooled him at first glance, but something must have nagged him: he walked past me as I left the shop, then stopped, turned, stared. His eyes widened and, one second later, he was seizing my arm and ready to go back to the Red Keep.

So much for my career as a spy...

I was brought back to Tywin's apartments and left there to wait. These few hours felt like days until he finally showed up. I had missed diner and my belly was rumbling uncomfortably, but what was worse was that I hadn't been allowed to change and was still wearing my servant's clothes.

“Who is he?” He sat behind his desk, tensed, ready to strike. Predator-like. “Who is the man you're sleeping with?”

I was taken aback. The idea seemed so ludicrous I had not even thought of it, yet it was, of course, the most plausible explanation for my little farce.

“No one. I'm not...  
-Don't lie to me !” he screamed. He had never screamed at me before; never. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, but his eyes still filled with fury. “Do you think you can make a fool out of me? Do you think you can go fuck whoever you're fucking, and I won't know? After everything I did for you, you would dare lie to me?  
-I'm not... fucking,” my tongue felt dirtied by the profanity, “anyone.”

His eyes reduced to a slit, he observed me with a deadly concentration. If he had suddenly barred his teeth, he wouldn't have surprised me.

Finally, he lashed a single word like one would lash a whip: “Explain.”

I gulped.

“I wasn't buying the moon tea for my own use. I was following Lysa Arryn and had to buy some to know what she wanted.”

It sounded like the worst excuse ever.

“Why?  
-Cersei asked me. She knew Lysa Arryn was going to this shop and wanted to know what she was buying there.   
-Why would Cersei want to know about this?  
-She didn't tell.”

Silence.

“Do you have any proof? That Lysa Arryn is buying moon tea?  
-I suppose the shop keeper...  
-Will know nothing and deny she's selling moon tea in the first place.  
-Only my words then.  
-You're a young, unmarried Lady who was found in the street dressed as a serving girl with abortive drug in her bag. Your words are worthless, especially when compared to Lysa Arryn's, who is the Hand's wife.” His lips thinned to a hard line. “I expected better of you. And I can't know if you're telling the truth. I'll have a Septa check that you're still the virtuous maiden you claim to be.”

My breath stuck in my throat. I could not believe Tywin, who was the nearest thing I had from a father now, would mistrust me to this point. Worse, someone may know, and then no one would ever believe I was untouched; or the septa may tell him my maidenhead was already broken, which could be the case since I was often riding in the man-like fashion, and then, what would he think? I thought the man liked, respected me.

“No.”

An eyebrow rose in disbelief.

“What did you say?  
-No. I won't agree with a Septa checking me, as you say.  
-I am not asking you whether you want it to happen or not. It will,” he affirmed.  
“I am not your daughter. I am the Lady of Fairkeep and you have no business...  
-You will drop that insolent tone immediately,” he warned, “You are my ward, my to marry, and I won't accept any doubt regarding your morality. If it is found lacking, then it is I, as you protector, who will bear the shame. I won't allow you to tarnish the honor of my house. Is that clear?  
-What is clear is that you distrust me for absolutely no reason at all!  
-Enough. Llewyn!”

The door of the office opened, revealing the head of Tywin's personal guard. I shut my mouth and set my jaw, determined not to back off, but I knew I was fighting a cliff with bare fingers. 

“The young Lady is going to bed. Escort her to her room.”

Just like that. I wasn't a child to be commanded, and yet, I knew -again- that I couldn't do anything to resist Tywin. The thought enraged me and for the first time of my life, I felt like a prisoner. In a spark of anger, my hand flew to the desk, grabbed the inkpot and threw it to Tywin's face.

He closed his eyes instinctively. The ink dotted his face and splattered on his deep red velvet vest. It would be spoilt forever, I thought as I left the room, immediately followed by Llewyn. I hoped it was one of his favorites, because I would definitely come to regret this gesture.

 

On the morrow, I had decided to let Tywin have his way. I had no way to refuse the examination and my persistence would only anger him. He was right: I was his to marry. I had no doubt that pushed too far, he would give me to the first brute he wished to favor.

It was quick, as painless as it was embarrassing. The Septa was around forty and motherly. She promised no one would know, whatever the result, that Lord Lannister had been very insistent, and he had been assured his will would be done. I wasn't thankful. Relieved by her promises, a bit; but I was far from ready to pardon Tywin. And then twice relieved when the Septa confirmed my maidenhead was intact.

I wasn't surprised when I received an invitation to dine with him. However I was astonished when, once there, he acted as if absolutely no apology was to be made. Shameless, he greeted me with the most neutral tone: “So. You told the truth.”

As if he had never doubted it. And then: “You look awful tonight. What did you do to your hair?”

Since I couldn't rebel, I had decided to look as grim as possible instead. I had acquired a black, high buttoned dress which hid me from toes to neck, and had neglected the elegant hairstyle I favored for a tight braid, pinned up in a strict bun. I wore no jewel, even my favorite pendant, the little golden seahorse he had offered me for my thirteenth birthday.

“I did not want to look like I want to seduce or please anyone, My Lord.  
-And so you look like you're mourning instead,” he mocked me. “We need to know if Lysa Arryn bought moon tea before. She could have done so just this once, for a servant of her or a friend. We need to be assured she buys it regularly. Tomorrow, you will go back to the shop, disguised. You will offer a golden dragon to the shop keeper, or up to two if he tries to negotiate. I will have two men of my guard dressed as civilians to protect you. You won't tell Cersei, and if she asks, you weren't able to follow Lysa the first time.”

This time, my mission went without any incident. The shop keeper charged two golden dragons and the promise her name wouldn't be given. What used to be a somewhat exotic adventure had turned into a disgusting chore. I wanted nothing more than to be done with it and, scared as I was to face Cersei and lie to her, I spent the rest of the day playing sick in my own room.

I was woken the next morning with strict orders and a new dress, all supplied by one of Tywin's squire. The boy from Crakehall explained I was to accompany our Lord to see the King. Everything had to be done according to Lord Lannister's wishes. I hadn't forgiven him, but once again, there was nothing I could do : Tywin was renowned for his lust for respect and his out of proportions revenges for those who would not give it. Furthermore, this was the King and, before I could help it, the prospect both intrigued and excited me.

Tywin had purchased a simple, high collared dress. The cut reminded me of the black one I wore out of spite, only this time, the color enhanced my blue eyes. Some discreet embroidery added a sense of luxury and an almost white, foam-like scarf to tie around my waist made me look thinner. He had chosen the hairstyle as well, a southron braid pined around my head ; my maid had to pull so hard on my hair to keep them from curling that she brought tears to my eyes.

Then I met the King.

I had seen him from afar since my arrival. King Robert, a tall and physically strong fellow, was an avid jouster. When he wasn't fighting someone in the training field, he would be seen leaving the castle to hunt or to go to the city for whatever he was doing there. Once home, he would order a feast if he felt like it. Sometimes I wondered if he ever found time to work at all. Now that I was only a few meters from him, I could understand why most girls deemed Cersei as “lucky”. Black bearded, virile as an ox despite his stag-shaped crown, he had square shoulders, high cheekbones, sensual lips half hidden under his hairs. His black eyes were alert, almost suspicious as he extended a hand toward his “honorable father-in-law”, which Tywin accepted. Tywin contrasted strongly with him. He was as tall as Robert, but leaner, almost dry, with a flatter belly and a crown of carefully cut, blond hairs around the line of his jaw. He was older by almost thirty years, but his light green eyes did not yield to the man. Without the crown, someone could even have guessed Tywin was the king, dressed regally as he was in rich red velvet threaded with gold.

We were soon a small group in a closed room, around a round table. Tywin and I sat in front of King Robert, while Jon Arryn stat at his right hand. I was at Tywin's left.

“So. What's the girl doing there?” asked Robert. He motioned a small, mousy cupbearer to fill his glass. The Hand frowned: obviously, he would have wished the meeting to be done with without wine. “I did not know you liked them so young.”

Tywin jaw contracted, yet he said nothing, breathed and finally, answered with an icy calm.

“Lady Esteill of Fairkeep is my pupil. She has been tutored in bookkeeping and is the most able to replace the man I intended for today. Who, unfortunately, has fallen sick.  
-What a strange idea. Teaching a girl in bookkeeping, I mean.” Robert gulped down a big, noisy halve of his glass. “And a bit cruel too, if I may. You shouldn't teach a girl something she will never be asked to use.  
-Some men actually listen to their wives,” Tywin answered dryly. “Did you call me to King's Landing to criticize the way I tutor my wards?”

At that, an uncomfortable silence took hold of the room, stretched until it filled every corner. Jon Arryn finally emitted a small cough.

“The royal treasury is empty. The Throne would grant you the honor of a loan.  
-How can the treasury be empty?” asked Tywin in astonishment. “The Crown was not only rich, it was making huge profits when I resigned...  
-It was six years and a war ago!” bellowed Robert, but Tywin ignored him and went on :  
“I was the first in King's Landing at the end of the war, which was three years ago, and the treasury was still full. It wasn't pillaged, we had no winter, no war since then. While I do not wish to accuse anyone of mismanagement, it is my right as your vassal to...  
-Oh, please do shut up.” Robert emptied what was left of his wine. “More!” He held the cup. A loud, annoyed breath went out of Tywin's nose. He reminded me of a tightly reigned stallion, waiting, wanting to break for a run. “Taxes had been low. People died. I had to rebuild the city you cleverly sacked when you arrived there first. I have to keep a strong army or a new war will break out. And I don't have to justify myself to you to ask for the fucking gold you're lazily mining out of the ass of Casterly Rock.  
-Please, please, there is no need to quarrel over this,” intervened Jon Arryn. Belittled by Robert, with an heavily lined face despite a straight back and awaken gaze, he was easily forgotten when he did not speak. “The fact is, the King ask you, Lord Lannister, if you would agree to a loan. If not, then when will ask someone else. It is because indeed you know the realm well, and have served it faithfully before that we preferred you over the others.  
-How much do you need?  
-Thirty thousand golden dragons.  
-Take notes,” Tywin ordered me. My quill dipped in the black bottle of ink, reminding me of our own quarrel. “Thirty thousand I can lend. I would however take a forty percent interest rate.  
-Forty ?” Robert looked like he was going to suffocate.  
“Forty is a very high rate, Lord Lannister,” answered the Hand in a calm voice. “And would cripple the Crown's treasury when time will come to refund you.  
-A low rate would not encourage the Crown to handle wisely its finances.  
-But surely, your benevolence and loyalty urge you toward some... leniency.   
-To some point, perhaps.  
-The Crown will refund you in a two years’ time, providing you allow a five percent interest rates.”

Tywin raised an eyebrow. Robert was obviously overwhelmed by whatever game the two men were playing.

“I have gold mines, this is true, but thirty thousand dragons is still a big sum. I will have to make sacrifices to allow this loan and then will need the money from the interests to repair the damages.  
-But these sacrifices will be less felt if you get the money back sooner,” Arryn pointed out.  
“They would be smoothened by a fifteen percent interest rate -if indeed, you can assure me you will manage to repay me in two years’ time. However, if you can't, perhaps we could make two loans. Let's say ten thousands with a ten percent interest rate, to be refunded in two years, and another one of twenty thousands, to be refunded in five years, with a thirty percent interest rate.”

The negotiations continued, propositions launched back and forth. It was obvious both Tywin and Jon Arryn were great negotiators and knew what they were doing; I suspected they even took pleasure in this joust. On the contrary Robert made no effort to follow, and no one tried to get his attention. He drank more and more and finally rose from his chair, declared he would come back to sign whatever agreement was reached and left.

By the time Jon Arryn proposed a pause, my fingers had turned black and I had filled several sheets of paper with propositions and calculations, each sheet with a different plan, each plan with the money Casterly Rock would make. My hand ached, but I was elated. Never in my life had I been so close to power, to two brilliant persons ready to fight and cooperate for the interest of the realm and their own lands. Jon Arryn, despite his less than impressive look, was obviously Tywin's equal in wits and brain.

We rose from the table. Jon Arryn led us to an open balcony overseeing the Nera and long streaks of green fields. There, the conversation shifter to more personal matters: how was Tywin's family faring? Had Jon Arryn finally reached an agreement with his pro-targaryens remaining lords, and had Lady Lysa recovered from her last miscarriage? I was flattered when Jon Arryn extended the courtesy to asking me about my family. Not about my studies, though, and I remembered how displeased by the idea of a woman handling numbers he had been.

“Now, the true reason I took Lady Fairkeep with me today,” began Tywin after he waved the servant away, “is that I had heard unfortunate rumors regarding your wife.”

Arryn eyes fell on me. His brow furrowed, but he still motioned Tywin to go on.

“Please, my Lady, explain to Lord Arryn what you learned.”

I gulped. Just how was I supposed to do that without angering the man?

“I saw you lady wife, My Lord,” I said with the humblest voice, “when I was going to a shop, in the city, to buy cosmetics.  
-Cosmetics? You wear cosmetics?  
-No, she doesn't,” Tywin intervened. “I do not allow her to do so, which is why she tried to get some secretly in the city before she was caught by the chief of my guard. This is how I came to know about this affair.   
-Please continue, young Lady.  
-I overheard the Lady Lysa. She was buying moon tea.   
-Are you sure of this?  
-Quite sure, my Lord. On Lord Lannister's orders I went back to the shop and paid good gold to know more. I learned your Lady has been buying the tea regularly for a year, in doses sufficient for one to be assured of never being pregnant.”

Jon Arryn turned to the countryside. His gaze wondered on the green hills as the implication downed on him: that for a whole year, his wife may have been trying to stay barren. I pitied Lysa for getting a husband old enough to be her grandfather, but this was no excuse from her duty. In her place I would have done everything to be done with it quickly, to spawn something and be left alone by the old man.

“I thank you for telling me, Lord Lannister. And now, if this is true, I owe you a favor,” he added sourly, but Tywin only shook his head.  
“I would not ask you for one, not when like you, I have high hopes for children to come.” He continued, answering Jon's questioning glare: “With Jaime in the Kingsguard and my other son's... deformity, I hoped Cersei would father many grandchildren. I have heard, however, troubling rumors concerning her marriage. Rumors which threaten these hopes.  
-I will talk to Robert. Again,” Arryn said. “But you have to know Cersei is not without guilt.   
-I will have a talk with her, then, and hope that with our joint efforts, the realm will soon gain a few more sons.  
-I needn't worry. Things will get better.” He sighed. “We should get back to work, before Robert comes back and accuses us of laziness.”

 

They finally agreed on a complicated loan in three parts, with clauses ensuring more money for the Lannisters if the Crown was late in payments. Tywin was pleased and declared himself ready to return to Casterly Rock. He called Cersei for a last meeting, the evening before his departure.

A thunderous meeting indeed.

I had the misfortune of being in the vicinity when she arrived. Regal in bearing, she pinned me to the wall with her glare alone and called me a traitorous weasel. I did not have the time to answer, and I would not have since I knew this to be true: Tywin opened the door to his apartments at this precise moment, saving me from his furious daughter.

“Esteill is not to blame for your carelessness and lack of subtlety,” he said, his face a mask of severity. “What were you thinking, sending a young girl to the city? We can be thankful nothing happened to her, or that she wasn't caught in the first place...” then the door closed and I could hear only muffled sounds, though they were quickly escalating toward a shooting match.

I packed my things and, the next morning, we left King's Landing.


	3. Thousands of names in a red sewn book

As we made our way back to Casterly Rock, I could not help but ask. Cersei's word were nagging at the back of my mind and I felt foolish, a sixteen years old woman, old enough to be married, perhaps already promised, but plagued with an utter lack of curiosity.

I was surprised. Envisioning my wedding had been a sweet fairytale for many cold, winter nights when I was smaller. I still wondered about it from time to time. I would wear a beautiful dress of green, blue and white, my family's colors, along with embroideries of true silver. My hair would be fantastic, braided with flowers and pearls and ribbons. My cloak would of course have the rearing white stag, strong and menacing, yet not as fearful as Tywin's lion. Of course my Lord was here, in my dreams, as the one who walked me to my faceless groom. Yes; I knew I wanted flowers everywhere, a grant banquet and a harness with golden bells for my horse. I knew I wanted to eat swan with honey and berries, salmon in herbs and whole bowls of fruits. I knew exactly how my sisters should be dressed. What I did not know was the most important: who I actually wanted to marry, whether I wanted him to be handsome or intelligent, rich or kind, a great warrior or a careful planer. No. He was a shadow, the idea of a man, but no man at all.

We rode slowly on the Golden Road, so I only had to push my chestnut mare to a small trot to join Tywin, at the front of the column.

"May we speak privately, my Lord ?"

His gazed had been set on the horizon, unfocused. He nodded quickly and motioned his mounted guards to spread and give us space.

"Have you already decided who I'm to marry?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"And why would you ask about this subject _now_?"

I did not know if he meant "this late", or that it wasn't the right time. I answered truthfully that I was bored and curious.

"If you ask because of what you saw of Lysa Arryn's and my daughter's marriage, yes, I have set my mind on someone, even though I can still change my mind, and no, he isn't older than me, a drunk, and do not indulge publicly with whores."

"Are you talking about King Robert?"

He threw me a hard glare.

"Of course not. Our beloved King is worth my respect and I will never criticize him. I wasn't thinking about anyone in particular."

Of course he was thinking about the King. After the meeting regarding the loan, I understood where Robert found time to work: in Lord Arryn or Lord Stannis's timetable. It was as if the man only dealt with the feasting part of the job. It had been left unsaid that reducing his spending in parties, girls, and tourneys would be a better step for the treasury than usury, but he would have badly reacted. Furthermore, I was persuaded Tywin did not mind at all having the Crown indebted to him.

"So who is he?"

"If I was to tell you, then I wouldn't be free to change my mind anymore."

"No one would know."

"Both of you would know, which is more than I intend."

"Then he knows he is to marry me?"

"No. I bet he suspects it, but right now, he only knows he should not court any woman."

I was suddenly very excited. I was sixteen. I could marry soon, have a husband, have babies as cute as Joffrey. And I would go back to Fairkeep, where everything would be done according to my mind.

"Please. I won't tell. It will be our secret."

"Careful, girl. I know better than to tell any secret to a woman your age."

"Then can I guess?"

"You can ask. I'll give you one question a day, until we arrive at Casterly Rock and if I wish, I will answer. If I refuse, you won't ask until the next morning, so chose carefully."

I frowned. I had dozens of questions, all of which I wanted to ask first, and we had "only" thirteen days until we reached our home.

"Is he handsome?"

"According to most women, yes."

On the second day, Tywin refused to answer: "Do I know him?"  
However, he did on the third: "Is he older than Cersei?" He was.

"Is he a lord?" No, he wasn't.

"Will I like him?" How was he supposed to know?  
"Is he kind?" Kind enough. A real man was not supposed to be as gentle as a maiden, after all.  
"Is he brave?" Yes, to the point of recklessness.  
"What does he likes?" Unfortunately, _girls_. Horses, armor and swords would come close.  
"Does he have any children?" None Tywin was aware of.  
"Is he from a great family?" He refused to answer.  
"Do you think he will like me?" How was he supposed to know?  
"What's his favorite color?" Tywin looked surprised, then thoughtful, then admitted he did not know.  
"Will he be a good Lord to Fairkeep?" He was not a bad man, but lacked patience. Which was why he tutored me in the arts of administration.

I hesitated for the last question, and it was only when the sea, the white sails of the harbor of Lannisport and the red roofs of the lower city came to view that I dared to ask.

"Is my wedding to this man the only reason you made me your ward?"

"Yes."

My blood ran cold. Tywin went on, as if he expected such a reaction.

"This is something you need to know about the world, Esteill. Nothing is ever free. If someone makes a gift, the gift is not real. It is a debt. If you don't gift the man in return with something of equal value, you will lose face. If you give someone a gift he cannot follow, then he will be humiliated or obligated to you. It is the same if someone invites you to a feast: you will have to return the invitation, unless you want to look rude or weaker than him. It is the same for actions. If you help someone, you will expect his loyalty in return, even if he didn't ask for your help in the first place."

"It doesn't mean people are bad. Or I'd rather say, it doesn't mean good people don't exist. Only that even they are doing nothing for free, though a lot of them are not aware of this fact. This is why Jon Arryn wanted to repay the favor immediately. As a man of honor, he would not shy from this duty, yet as an intelligent man as well, he knew that having this kind of lasting debt with me could be dangerous."

"This is why, as well, a lot of people don't understand our words: A Lannister Always Pays His Debts. These are not only a matter of money. They were deserved by those of my forefathers I wanted as models for their ability to honor their debts, in favors or money, and to strike back against any insult or injury. I made them my own both to threaten would-be traitors and for them to understand what kind of honor I have to offer."

"So, you asked me: Did I took you to Casterly Rock, protect your lands, offer you education, only because I knew I would wed you ? The answer is yes. I gave you much for your hand, which I will give to a good man. If you think about it, why would I takein a girl with living parents to take care of her or with nothing to offer?"

"For charity?"

"Would it be better? I cannot offer charity to every orphan. Furthermore, you would have ended up so indebted to me that you would have needed a lifetime of service to repay me. And no, I wouldn't have asked. _You_ would have given your life, freely. Do you think today's revelation stains what I bestowed upon you?"

"Yes," I answered truthfully. "I thought you were... well... a good person. Doing things for the sake of being honorable. To protect the weak."

He looked mildly surprised. Obviously, it wasn't often the Lord Paramount of Casterly Rock was expected to be benevolent.

"Wrong. If you think it stains our relationship, then you understood nothing of today's lesson. It is your vision of the whole world which should be stained, our relationship being only a small fraction of this world. You wanted me to be benevolent, yet you fail to see I was, indeed. I could have married you to a mindless brute or an old man to whom I owed a favor. I didn't and instead gave you all the weapons necessary to rule with your husband. No Lord can be more benevolent without losing something in the bargain. I am no Septon, or Holy Man, and neither are you. Never forget who you are."

We parted as we passed the city gates. Tywin rode at the front with his personal guard while us, the minor lords and his host would go after him. He would probably be on his way to his desk before I could even set a foot on the ground. Even if the thirteen days of travel had made me more athletic, I was grateful for a long bath, a copious diner and an overly long night.

I was invited, the next morning, to tour the docks of Lannisport with Tywin. His father Tytos had renovated parts of the port in his time, but had badly chosen his builders, forcing his son to destroy most of the new infrastructures to build new, non-faulty ones. As he had, in the same time, negotiated lucrative treaties with the Free Cities, Lannisport was now faced with more ships than it could handle. Plans had been made for the drying of a swamp north of the city, or for the construction of a wooden floating city under the cliffs of Casterly Rocks. Tywin had finally settled for a secondary port in Fairkeep where the merchants would unload all products destined for the north of Highgarden and south of his own lands, thus cutting traffic to Lannisport from the ten percent it couldn't handle at the moment. Of course, the plan would work only if I proved able to understand the management of a port (something which wasn't Tywin specialty), if we followed the same track and, of course, if Tywin could trust me not to take advantage of the situation and stick to my ten percent.

Thankfully, it was as if Tywin's absence had spurred his worker's motivation. We found the building ahead of the schedule. Though Lord Lannister never smiled, true to his words of the day before, he commanded the counter master to grant a two days salary allowance to the men and a barrel of wine to be used during lunch. There were no cheers, but a few respectful, pleased thanks. Somehow the workers seemed confident their Lord would reward them for their work but were scared of him in equal measure.

This small victory lured me into believing I could make demands. Tywin seemed pleased enough to go back to Casterly Roc by a slow pace, taking in everything he could from his city ; when in a bad mood, he would rush to his gates to work. But today, today was beautiful, warm, and there was no reason to be overly careful.

"Can I marry now?"

His face remained as stone, but his hands contracted on the reins of his horse.

"No."

"But I would like to!" Surely, if I was convincing enough, he would relent. "You taught me most of what I need. And I only have sisters, non-married. If I was to marry now, I could have a son in a year and a half..."

"No. I said no, Esteill, and I think you know what the word means."

"But _why_? You already know the man, it's been decided for _years_!"

"A month ago, getting married was the last of your worries. I would have..."

"But I want a baby! Cersei has one, you've seen him!"

He shot me a thunderous glare. Interrupting Tywin Lannister was always a bad move. Obviously, bringing Cersei into a debate he did not wish to have was even worse.

"Yes. Cersei has a baby. Did you know Jaime wrote to me when she gave birth? _Father, Cersei's been in that room for one day and she's still there, Father, Cersei's not screaming anymore because she's so tired, Father is she going to die, Father please come to King's Landing ?_ But of course I couldn't, because obviously if Cersei had died, she would have long before my arrival. And so I waited until hours and hours and hours later another raven came from Jaime. _Two days of labor in blood and pain_. Yes, Cersei has a baby, and _I_ got the letter of a grown man who discovered women _die_ in childbirth. And do not believe that you're going to escape her fate, silly little girl: _the youngest die more_."

With these last words, he kicked his worse, forcing a group of young women to cower against a wall as he stormed past them. My eyes prickled with tears of hurt, fear and shame; hurt, because I sincerely wanted to be a mother now. Of fear because Tywin would keep this happiness from me, or he was right and I would die. And shame because, obviously, I bring back the painful memories of his wife's death through the near disaster of Cersei's first son ordeal.

I retired to the Sept and knelt in front of the Mother. For the first time since my father's death, my prayers were earnest. I did not care that Tywin did not believe in the gods. I did not care from my own lack of faith in the past years. Now I needed a mom, I needed my mom to be there, to tell me everything would be alright. But my mom had died in childbirth as well. I could hardly remember her face anymore, or what her voice sounded like.

After some hours, my head cleared and my tears went dry. There was no use crying: tears wouldn't move my Lord. Furthermore I was puzzled by his last words -the youngest die more- and, as a scholarly girl, I was soon annoyed I couldn't see sense in what he said.

I decided to consult his Maester. The man was older than Tywin and had been there since the beginning of his reign, when Tywin had sent his faster's Maester back to Citadel, accusing him of being an incompetent sycophant. Despite his arched back and bulgy, half blind watery eyes, he knew all there was to now about the Rock and its Lord.

"Ah." He coughed, slowly raised from his desk and motioned me to follow. "I thought it would come back one day. I was surprised it wasn't earlier, with young Cersei." His feet rattled the ground as he led me to a small library. At the end of the room, spiraling stairs went up, and up there was only Tywin's room. "These rooms used to be for the Ladies. But Lord Tytos had given the place to his mistress so Lord Tywin refused to give them to his wife. He wanted me to be there instead, so he could get in the library whenever he wished. He had this special project, back in the time... ah. There they are, his little pet projects. His bony finger trailed against a shelf of paper. A whole one of sheets tied together with red threads. He taped against one at the far end. "This one. The last one."

He took the book and walked to a small desk, half hidden a corner. At his order I opened a window above it. The light flowed when I removed the wooden shutter. A thick layer of dust made it obvious that no one had used the place in months.

Maester Joris put the book on the desk, coughed again because of the dust and told me to read this. If I had any question, he would be in his office.

The cover was a simple sheet with Tywin's spiky handwriting. The title was "W. stat. Y267 -", as if a second date was missing.

On the other side were the words : "Contains :

One – Statistics for the year. For details see each personal sheet.  
Two – Synopsis of exchanges with the Citadel  
Three – Conclusions for the year

Four – Theories for next year"

On the next page was a list of persons : "In charge centralization : Maester Joris and Aidan, Casterly Rock. In charge inquiries Lannisport : Maester Anton, Septon Kavan, Septon Ancel, Septon Aster, Septa Lysa, Septa Lanna, Septa Arianna, Street Healer Kanodra of Lys, Wise-woman Belline..."  
The list went on and on. There were people from every major town of the West or even villages. I was stunned to recognize the names of the Maester of Fairkeep and of the Septon on the town. All of these people either had responsibilities in their town or were somehow linked to medicine.

The next page was full of column and looked like some kind of accounting book. Only, I finally understood with widening eyes, Tywin hadn't been counting money.

He had been counting women. Or, to be more precise : dead women.

The first column was "pregnancies", the second "non productive pregnancies", the third "death in labor". Then he had detailed everything : the same sheet, taking into account the hair color. Then another one for legitimate birth and bastards. The next one for rich or poor girls, then by ages, number of children already birthed by the woman, if a Maester or a Septon had been there, if the mother was a good believer, if she had wide, average or small hips or breasts, if the birth was near or far from the sea... I turned the pages, but the same column lined up years after years, increasing the number of women as Tywin added more names to the contributors. Some were abandoned (like the one about the sea, or the color of the hair), other were still there, even after the handwriting changed. Obviously Tywin invested less time now in his researches, but he must have given orders for his project to continue.

Now his words made sense. Page after page, he concluded the youngest and oldest women had most chances to die, very young girls of eleven (I shuddered), twelve or thirteen being most in danger. After this conclusion, a small arrow led to the conclusion: "Forbid wedding and birth before fourteen. Do not condemn abortin before fourteen. High penalty for faulty fathers. Double penalty for rape if under fourteen." Others were made, such as "obligation for a wise woman or barber or septa if family wealthy enough", "ask Citadel for better teaching for all Maester", "forbid use of red lilies from Lys = KILL mother, no help, to ban from Lannisport".

I was astonished. After Joanna's death, Tywin had built a whole network of men and woman who reported to him everything there was to know. I opened a book, then another, and found them full of sheets with numerous handwritings. I searched for the one with my last sister's birth date. I shivered as I found my mother, gory details, how she had died, what the Maester remembered about the first three births and the last one. Someone had compiled all this data, Tywin himself at first, then someone else, in a unique way. It was just brilliant, the way he had managed to put all these women in neat, clear columns, then used them to actually try to _improve_ the situation.

I stopped when light became scarce. My belly was rumbling, but I felt I had to talk to Joris. I needed to know more about this fascinating system.

"Lord Tywin wanted to know why Lady Joanna died. We had a young Maester then, called Aidan, who is now an archmaester at the Citadel. He invented this system. "Statistics", he called it. Lord Tywin was very interested. He wanted them for soldiers, but ended up with Aidan working on women after Joanna died. A few years ago, Lord Tywin's project was a big thing at the Citadel because of the scale of his researches. They asked questions and he provided answers. Huge improvements were made in understanding the problems of childbirth. Then, of course, something else became fashionable, Aidan got his seat and my Lord turned to other projects. But he still wants us to get the numbers."

"Did he discover why Joanna died?"

He shook his head.

"No," he answered sadly. "No, he didn't. The statistics proved only one thing : Lady Joanna should have lived. We found no explanation, none at all, other than disgrace from the Seven."

I came back to my room and asked my servant to bring me diner. I did not want to meet Tywin now. My discoveries gave me the will to pardon his outburst and will to delay my wedding, but I refused to be the sixteen, officially non-courted woman anymore. If I couldn't wed now then I could at least be engaged. It would be nice to have a man in my life, to dance with him or walk with my hand on his elbow. I wanted to plan for my next attack on my Lord, yet I ended up curled in my bed, envisioning dreamy, fluffy romantic scenes with a dark-haired, tall and strikingly beautiful warrior. I woke up the next morning, having done no progress at all.

I spend the next morning rehearsing, speaking aloud in front of my table mirror. Then I would feel ridiculous, pace the room, find new arguments and do it again. After two hours, I felt I was only running in circles and decided to try my luck.

I found Tywin in his office. To my best bow he answered with furrowed eyebrows. He was suspicious or I didn't know him at all.

"My Lord, I have been thinking carefully about..."

"If you are going to rant about getting married again, you can stop and go away. I don't have time for this."

"I wasn't going to!"

Of course I was going to. But if I didn't say the m- or w- words, it wasn't that much of lie, wasn't it?

"Then what?"

"I understand your position on this subject and agree that I am, indeed, too young."

He raised an eyebrow, as if he did not know if he was to be pleased or ready to be backstabbed with whatever nonsense I could provide. I smiled sweetly.

"I think the right age to marry should be eighteen."

"I agree."

"I'll be seventeen in three months."

"I know."

"I think it would not be tasteful if I was to be married at eighteen without a proper courtship."

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. His breath stuck in his throat, then got out in a soft hiss. He had a thoughtful look on his face.

"I actually agree with you," he said with disbelief, as if he hadn't been expecting anything sensible. I was even more surprised. Could I really persuade him to give me what I wanted? "I'll talk to him."

"You will?"

"I said so."

"You really will?"

I felt as if I had stars shining in my eyes. Tywin, however, glared as if something unpleasant had popped out of my nose.

" _I said so_."

"Thank you!" I could have hugged him, if not for the desk between us. And the fact that no one hugged Lord Tywin Lannister. "I'll behave and..."

"Yes, yes. Now please go away." He waved me off and I left, floating on a little pink cloud.

A cloud that sparkled, because I was young and foolish, and because I did not know my fiancé would soon bath us all in blood.

Two weeks after my conversation with Tywin, I was ordered to meet my Lord in the White Rose Garden. I hadn't seen him for days and was sure he had been avoiding me.

The garden had been created by Lady Joanna. I had heard she had designed everything with her husband in mind, which had always been puzzling: how could anyone be inspired by my Lord to plant flowers was beyond me. Furthermore, the place, left unchanged for years, was lovely and wild, with none of the elaborated geometrical shapes of Joanna's other gardens. Aside from its remoteness I could not find anything here which would please Tywin. Yet he was here, waiting for me, looking somewhat embarrassed for the first time of my life.

"You should sit there," he said nervously. "Under the roses arch. Lay down your hair."

I did as told, only to hear that I actually looked better with my braids. I should turn a little to show my good profile, straighten my back, look kind and spirited but not pedantic. I should not talk about accounting. Or history. Or... actually, I should not speak about anything intelligent at all. The best was to listen and laugh to all of his jokes.

"Are you _afraid_ he won't like me?" I asked, trying to make it sound like a jest. Tywin's advices were beginning to scare me. Who was that man? Surely, he was someone special, or Tywin wouldn't be nervous. My blood ran cold as I understood the truth.

He was marrying me to his son. Perhaps he liked the imp after all and was afraid of my distaste for him. I'd rather throw myself from a tower than marry Tyrion and his short, disgusting legs and arms.

"Of course not," Tywin answered, looking like a wounded chicken. "Just don't mess it up." Then he left me there, alone with my fear.

It made sense. Tywin had tried for years to find a good match for Tyrion, but no lord would give his daughter to a dwarf. Perhaps I was the best he could have. It would add Fairkeep to Casterly Rock and with my lands fully in Lannister's hands, he didn't have to fear a failure of his strategy regarding Lannisport. He hadn't been waiting for me to be older, he had waited for Tyrion to stop being a mere boy. But Tywin had miscalculated. I was a Lady and I wasn't going to let him marry me to a monster. He couldn't! He would hate me for this, but even in front of the Septon I would say no to the Imp.

I stand up and straighten my back, as he had ordered. But it wasn't to please. I needed to feel strong, to let the physical sensation feed my determination. I left the roses to follow Tywin but stopped soon enough when I spotted him, talking in an animated manner with his younger brother Gerion. Tyrion's uncle had always been a strong supporter of the dwarf. Was he displeased by the match? I calmed my ragging breath. Tywin went from annoyed to angry. The volume rose and I was soon able to catch most of what they say.

"... do you _always_ have to try to control everything ? Our father let you chose who you wanted to marry. You got who you wanted, Kevan got who he wanted, even Tygett..."

"So this is the reason why you're being so difficult? Because I refused to let you marry that… The girl was a fucking _cook_ , Gerion ! After ten years I dared to believe you had grown up and..."

"And finally accepted the cold fishes you throw at me ? What's wrong with being unmarried? I hear ser Brynden Tully is not married and _his_ brother does not mind. So are Benjen Stark and Oberyn Martell."

"Benjen Stark is a member of the Night's Watch," Tywin retorted coldly. "You are just being ridiculous. I offer you a Lordship..."

 **"Sod off!** I don't **want** a lordship, by the Seven Hells, I want nothing from you, much less a wife! If the Night's Watch vows did not include celibacy I'd go to the Wall **just to get rid of you**!"

Then Tywin slapped him, and hell broke loose.

Gerion froze for a second. As a grown man, he had probably never been slapped since he had reached adulthood, and his brother's reaction took him by surprise. But surprise soon wore off and the younger man launched himself at his brother and Lord. The unexpected move caught Tywin off guard and he crashed heavily on his back. Gerion did not let got and instead rose his fist to strike.

Panicked, I scanned the garden until my eyes rested on the tall, lean wood pieces used to guide the rose bushes growth. I yanked it from the ground but my improvised weapon got stuck in branches. By the time I had it properly in hands, Tywin had retaliated and split Gerion's lips. Both men had bleeding noses, but Gerion was still topping and angry. I raised my stick and forcefully struck him right through his shoulders. I was aiming for the head.

The stick broke. The fight stopped, frozen in time. The two brothers threw me astonished glances. I did not know if I was supposed to be proud or mortified: it was so clear now that my weapon was completely useless! I could have hit him square on the head without making much damage. Finally anger won.

"You don't have to fight. I don't want to marry _him_ anyway."

My voice rose, louder and louder, until I literally shrieked.

"You're just a stupid, unambitious worthless pig! You don't even care to try to know me at all!"

"Wait, wait!" Gerion said quickly. He was still straddling his brother, but Tywin seemed all too happy to be forgotten since his younger brother had been winning the fight. "It's nothing personal..."

"How can it not be personal? You just said you don't want to marry me..."

"Let me exp..."

"... all because you don't like your brother..."

"It's not that..."

"... and you don't care that I could be a great person and perhaps we could be very happy together !"

"Calm down, girl," Gerion answered with a soothing tone. "You're the fifth girl Tywin is trying to..."

"I am? So this is all I am to you? I'm not the fifth girl!" I tried to slap him but landed ridiculous, harmless blows, or tried to since he easily blocked them. "I'm not some number on your list! I'm the woman who won't marry you even if you're the last man on the face of Westeros!" I ended up flogging him with my scarf. Tywin was probably trying to say something, perhaps to ask if Gerion could get off him, but I ignored him. "You can go to the Night's Watch for all I care! **I hope your cock will freeze and fall when you're there!** "

I found myself breathless, my cheeks red, and Tywin looking at me as if he'd never heard a girl pronounce the word _cock_. Suddenly we all felt utterly, completely ridiculous, I for my outburst and foul words, Gerion for the whole mess and Tywin, well, probably for his less than dignified position. He was the first to react and pushed Gerion away. He rose and sat, his nose bleeding with profusion now. I kneeled and pushed my handkerchief to his face. I threw Gerion a venomous glare.

"Go find a _cooking girl_ if you want someone's help."

He gaped like a lost fish, then got up and left, holding his sleeve to his own bleeding nose. I was soon left alone, in the grass with a silent and pensive Tywin, until he broke the spell, only to say:

"Well, that was even worse than expected."


End file.
